


the darker places where the ice takes hold

by Emily_Nicaoidh



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Draco Malfoy, Developing Relationship, Dubious Consent, Lack of Communication, M/M, Marking, Oral Sex, POV Draco Malfoy, Parselmouth Harry Potter, Past Rape/Non-con, Power Imbalance, Self-Harm, Top Harry Potter, house arrest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2021-01-30 18:37:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21432868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emily_Nicaoidh/pseuds/Emily_Nicaoidh
Summary: Harry never said anything about it, but eventually Draco worked out that there were three rules of his house arrest at Number 12 Grimmauld Place:1. Don't talk about thesetumsempraincident.2. Don't talk about the dark mark.3. Don't talk about any of it to anyone else.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 4
Kudos: 128





	the darker places where the ice takes hold

**Author's Note:**

> I've been thinking a lot about Drarry and dub con recently, so here we are...yet another way that they might start out with dubious consent and clumsily feel their way towards the start of a real relationship.

Rule #1: Don’t talk about the _ sectumsempra _incident

The winter seemed longer than usual when Draco was under house arrest. He spent a lot of time looking out the windows of 12 Grimmauld Place, wondering what the outside air felt like and whether _ sectumsempra _ would get the dark mark off his arm.

He got to know the patterns the shadows from the trees made on the grass outside, noticed which were starting to drop their leaves faster and faster as winter approached. There wasn’t much else to do in a house full of cursed antiques he couldn’t touch and a wand that wouldn’t cast the only spell he needed to cast.

A few days after the snow is when it became clear which places the light never touched. It melted the fastest in full sunlight, of course, that was gone by the end of the first day. Then there were the places that were bright in the mornings and shady in the afternoons; those melted next. The shady morning areas and bright afternoon spots followed, and last to thaw were the places that the sun never touched, at least not directly. 

The darker places were where the ice took hold. After that first warm afternoon when the snow melted but the ground was too hard to soak up much runoff, the water just pooled and over the night froze, and then froze again when the next day dawned cold but sunny. It didn’t matter how bright the sun was in those shaded spots that the sun never touched; the ice deepened and changed colors as the leaves beneath it rotted away. 

In places like that there was always something rotting beneath the surface. 

Draco’s arm itched, and he flopped back onto the bed, glanced at the _ tempus _ charm he had cast when Harry had left that morning. Two hours to go. An interminable amount of time when he had already been here so alone for so long. 

House arrest wasn’t all bad; he knew he should be grateful that he wasn’t at Azkaban. That anyone at all, much less the vaunted savior, had spoken for him at his trial. The dementors were supposedly gone, but it still had to be a hellhole. He was grateful not to be there, he really was. 

But. 

But it was boring being on house arrest, even if he had his wand. Grimmauld Place was still a minefield of dark artifacts, even after the Order of the Phoenix had attempted to clean it out, and part of the terms of Draco’s probation was that he not touch any dark artifacts or cast any dark spells. He’d visited several times as a child, when his aunts and uncles still lived there, and remembered enough to realize that most rooms of the house were off-limits to him now. 

The kitchens were safe; Harry’s bedroom was safe. He had a hard time thinking of it as his own bedroom, as _ theirs _; it wasn’t the room he had stayed in when he visited as a child, and there was almost nothing of his in the room now. His wand, some clothes in the wardrobe. 

His arm itched. 

Draco had tried magical methods at first, but he was limited in what he could do without the usual dark spells that were best at this sort of thing. Healing spells were totally ineffective; the magic underlying his tattoo had resisted them easily, or maybe Draco had never had the aptitude for healing. 

Either way, he had quickly realized that muggle methods were more likely to work in the short term. He’d tried burning, first, but while that had taken months to heal, it had ultimately been a waste: the scar was still there, dark and angry. 

The most recent attempt at slashing it up was still healing; Draco scratched at it idly and wished he could have just used _ sectumsempra. _ That one would work, he was sure of it, but it wasn’t worth getting his wand snapped over, and so he worked at it in the muggle way. He wasn’t sure if the mark was getting any fainter, each time the skin healed over, but there was something satisfying about seeing the marked skin slashed up. 

He thought about asking Harry to do it, cast _ sectumsempra _ on him again, usually while they fucked. He thought Harry might, if he could manage to get the words out, but both of them knew that he tended to become incoherent quickly when Harry fucked him. He didn’t think Harry knew why, and Draco wasn’t about to tell him. 

Draco wasn’t sure which was worse, the fact that he suspected Harry wanted to hurt him or that he was pretty sure he wanted it too. 

“Hey.” He must not have heard the door open, or Harry come in, because he was standing in the doorway watching Draco. 

“I want you to do it again,” Draco blurted out. 

“Do what?” Harry asked, hanging up his work robes in the wardrobe. 

“I can’t say the name of the spell. The one you—” Draco looked away. Harry was a legilimens, and he didn’t want this pulled from his head. “I’ve seen you looking at my scars. I know you want to do it.” 

Harry had a hand on a drawer, and he slammed it shut. “No.” 

“What? No, you do, I’ve seen the look you get when I take my shirt off.” 

“No.” Harry said again, and slammed the bedroom door behind him. 

Draco didn’t ask where he was going. It didn’t matter, because people under house arrest couldn’t follow anyway. 

Rule #2: Don’t talk about the dark mark

There hadn’t been many people willing to supervise the house arrest of a half-dead junior death eater, and when he had been sentenced Draco had been surprised they’d found anyone at all, until he heard that Harry had volunteered. At first he’d wondered if this was about revenge, if Harry planned to make his house arrest more miserable than any sentence in Azkaban could be, and the first few weeks, he was afraid. 

But retribution never came, and gradually Draco had relaxed. Harry had nightmares, he learned, and didn’t like to sleep alone. Draco didn’t like to sleep alone either, for pretty much the same reason. Half the self-defence spells he knew he was banned from casting because some ministry official had decided they were dark, and when he slept alone he woke up screaming or casting spells blindly before he realized he wasn’t back in the war. 

It was better for both of them this way, Draco had told himself, and it wasn’t weird because he was the one who brought it up. He’d seen the way Harry looked when he went off to his room alone to sleep, like he was about to face an executioner. Like there were worse things in his dreams than existed in this world anymore. 

Draco knew a little about that, and so he had offered. Had Harry accepted too quickly? Had there been something flash in his eyes as Draco offered to sleep beside him (_ just _ sleep) that had looked almost triumphant, almost Slytherin? He didn’t want to think about that. If he couldn’t stay in Grimmauld Place he didn’t know where else he could go, and if there was nobody else willing to supervise his house arrest he might be sent to Azkaban. He’d do anything to avoid that. 

They still hadn’t been together for awhile after that. He moved into Harry’s room after a few months, and started sleeping with him properly a few months after that. It was fine. That part hadn’t been Draco’s idea, he almost never had ideas like that anymore, not after the way things had been during the war, but his younger self would have enjoyed it. Had spent so many years at school trying to get Harry to notice him that it seemed like a waste that now that Harry finally did, most of the time Draco didn’t care, couldn’t seem to feel anything. 

From the start, Harry had always liked marking him up, sucking bruises into Draco’s neck and thighs and chest, and Draco always let him. Draco couldn’t leave Grimmauld Place and nobody visited, so it wasn’t as if he needed to worry about hiding the marks.

It was only a matter of time before Harry found Draco’s dark mark.

It happened when they were fucking, of course. Harry was leaning over him, pushing all the way in with every stroke and then drawing almost all the way back out, and it was slow and almost gentle, and Draco was actually enjoying it quite a lot, which was new and a bit strange, and then Harry had leaned over as he thrust back in and Draco had felt rather than saw Harry’s eyes land on his dark mark. 

But rather than pretending he hadn’t noticed it or pulling out and away and making everything horrible, Harry and leaned precariously forward until his chest was touching Draco’s back and sucked a deep purple bruise next to the edge of the mark. 

It was luck that Draco was between removal attempts at the time; the skin over his mark was a little shiny, as newly healed skin always was, and maybe that was why it bruised so easily. 

Harry kept going after the first bruise was finished, and eventually most of Draco’s forearm was a mottled purple. It shouldn’t have been hot. But by the time Harry finished the last bruise around the dark mark, obscuring it completely in the mess of bruises, Draco looked down at his arm, purple and blue and black from Harry’s mouth and came. 

They never talked about that, either, or about the way that Harry almost always marked up Draco’s left arm after that. Between the muggle attempts to remove the mark and Harry’s attentions, Draco was glad that there was no possibility of anyone else seeing him. He didn’t know how he would explain it to anyone else when he couldn’t explain it to himself. 

Draco had thought at first that maybe this had cured him, that he’d go back to wanting Harry the way he did when they were in school, but the next time they fucked it was back to the usual: pain and nothingness.

  
  
  


Rule #3: Don’t talk about any of it to anyone else

He could hear the voices from downstairs. Draco wasn’t sure if he was meant to overhear or not. 

“Is uh, anyone else joining us?” Ron Weasley’s voice was stilted, overly formal. 

“No.” That was Harry. 

“Did you ask?” A quieter voice, one Draco didn’t recognize. Where was Hermione Granger? Weren’t she and Weasley together? 

“No.” 

“Go ask him mate, who knows? He might want to.” Ron again. 

“He won’t.” 

Draco thought that would be the end of it, but then he heard footsteps on the stairs that he recognized, and a soft knock before the door opened. 

“Do--do you want to come have dinner. My friends want me to ask you to have dinner with us,” Harry said awkwardly. It wasn’t really a question. 

Draco stared, leaned back against the bed frame. “Where’s Granger? I didn’t hear her.” 

“She--she’s out of town. Some Ministry thing, I don’t remember.” 

“Who’s the other person, then?” 

“Ron’s partner at work, Alicia.” 

“There’s no way she wants to eat dinner with me.” 

“Do you want to, though,” Harry repeated. “They wanted me to ask you.” 

“You didn’t want to ask me.” 

“No, I didn’t,” Harry agreed. 

There it was. The admission Draco had been looking for. He pulled the duvet up to his shoulders, sat there for a moment. He didn’t want to go, not really. But his house arrest was, impossibly, drawing to an end, and if he didn’t make some effort to rejoin wizarding society before he got out he knew it would be even harder once he was free. 

“I guess.” 

Harry said nothing, turned and left. 

Draco sat for awhile. He could hear them shuffling around, and plates clinking on the table. Maybe Harry had told them he wasn’t coming, or maybe they had decided not to wait for him. Good. 

He somehow still had the kind of clothes one should wear to this kind of thing; Draco dressed mechanically, picking up a charcoal grey shirt, tiny green cufflinks, narrow charcoal pants, and a gray-green tie. Slytherin colors, but also the colors he looked best in. They probably expected him to look like a mess. He would give them the opposite. 

  
  


They stared, of course they did, Weasley especially. 

“You look nice, mate,” Weasley offered eventually, and Draco resolved to watch him carefully. What kind of game was he playing? They weren’t mates, never had been. 

The other person, who must have been Alicia, cleared her throat. “Anyway, when we finally got to the attic there weren’t any dark artifacts there at all. Total waste of resources.” 

“What attic?” Draco asked. A plate had somehow appeared in front of him, with a slice of roast and some vegetables, and he picked at the roast. 

“The Greengrass estate,” Alicia said. 

Draco snorted. “Anyone could have told you there wouldn’t be anything there.”

“You didn’t, though, did you,” Alicia said. “Could have saved us some time.”

Draco became aware that Harry and Ron were watching him very closely. “I didn’t know you were planning to go there.” 

“Yeah, right. Harry doesn't talk to his boyfriend about what we do at work?” Ron asked, obviously disbelieving. 

“No,” Harry said, and Draco looked up at him in surprise. He hadn’t expected anyone to speak for him, much less Harry.

_ Boyfriend. _Draco had wondered for awhile now — was Harry sleeping with someone else? It wouldn’t even technically be someone else on the side; he was obviously the one on the side. He couldn’t, shouldn’t say anything if Harry was. They hadn’t discussed being exclusive. They hadn’t discussed much at all. Draco wasn’t really sure how, and Harry clearly wasn’t interested, since he hadn’t brought it up. He assumed Harry knew he wasn’t sleeping with anyone else, since he couldn’t leave the house.

But Harry apparently had a boyfriend, which meant that Draco had to figure out who it was and how serious it was and how likely it was that said boyfriend might want to move in, because if that happened surely Harry would want Draco gone, because being a jailor to a traumatized ex-junior death eater had to be a serious buzzkill and if the boyfriend moved in before his sentence was up, he would probably be sent to Azkaban after all. 

Ron was laughing, a bright, guileless sound that snapped Draco’s attention back to the present conversation. 

“...looks a little scared, mate. Didn’t you have the define the relationship conversation already?” 

Harry looked sheepish. “Can we not do this now? I thought you guys just wanted to like, have dinner. I didn’t know this was going to be an interrogation.” 

Ron was still staring at him, and Draco’s meticulously chosen outfit was not proving to be the armor he had thought it would be. 

“I’m going upstairs. Good evening, Weasley, Spinnet,” Draco said, nodding at them each in turn, before he fled. 

  
  


“...could have been nicer,” he could hear Harry saying as he climbed the stairs. “I don’t want to scare him off.”

  
  


Ridiculous. As if anything could scare Draco off; he was determined to finish his sentence without any black marks on his record so that he could go live a quiet, boring life somewhere in the country and spend all his time making wands. Ollivander had shown him a little that terrible year, as a way to distract them both from what was happening all around them and to them, and his brief, unusual apprenticeship in wandmaking remained the highlight of Draco’s education so far. 

There were some trees on the Malfoy estate that would be perfect wand trees, or maybe had been in the past, Draco wasn’t sure. A lot of the history had been forgotten, and a lot had been destroyed during that terrible year. But the trees had mostly survived, and deeper into the forest Draco thought there had to be some that hadn’t been hit by curses and dark magic. He wanted to try, anyway. 

Draco fell asleep that night thinking about wand making, and for the first time in a long time didn’t dream about the things that had been done to him during the war.

  
  


Rule #4: There are no more rules

He had tried to wait up for Harry, after leaving the dinner with Harry’s friends, but when he sat on the bed exhaustion overtook Draco, and he fell asleep. By the time he woke up Harry had already left for work at the Ministry, and Draco was alone again. 

He had breakfast alone; after that Draco visited all of the rooms of the house that he had been inside since his house arrest had started, making a mental inventory of his belongings. If Harry and his boyfriend were having a define the relationship talk soon, as Weasley had suggested, then Draco would probably be leaving soon. 

He didn’t pack, didn’t want to look like he was thinking about leaving or wanting to leave, in case that violated the terms of his house arrest somehow. But he kept track of where everything was, and figured that he could be ready to go in under an hour if he had to be.

And probably for Azkaban. He tried not to think about that part. There might be somewhere else he could go to finish out his house arrest; maybe another auror would be willing to live at the Malfoy estate with him. He had to focus on that, pretend he thought this wasn’t all going to go to hell immediately. 

  
  


But the next day Harry didn’t say anything about it, and he kept not talking about it the day after and the next day, and Draco didn’t bring it up. 

Then somehow it had been a month, and Draco still hadn’t found out if Harry’s boyfriend was moving in soon or where he would have to go when that happened. He never asked if the boyfriend knew about him or not, about what he and Harry had been doing, but he figured that was Harry’s problem, not his. He wasn’t the one who decided to be fucking two guys at the same time. 

Everything changed when Harry came home too early on a Tuesday.

“I thought we might go together,” Harry said, which made no sense at all. 

“What?” 

“To get the restrictions taken off your wand, I thought you might...might not want to go alone,” Harry explained. “I don’t have to go with you, it’s fine.” 

“What?” Harry wasn’t making sense. Draco had been sure that this was it, he had come home early in the middle of the week to tell Draco that he was kicking him out so this unnamed mystery boyfriend could move in, and Draco was going to be sent to Azkaban where he wouldn’t be an inconvenience to anybody anymore.

“Your sentence is up,” Harry said. “At noon today, technically. So I thought I’d be here in case you wanted me to go with you for I don’t know, moral support? Or something. It’s been two years, I didn’t know if you’d feel up to navigating all that by yourself.” 

Draco didn’t know what to say to that, and apparently he was taking too long to answer, because Harry started to look concerned, and crossed the room to sit next to him at the table. 

“Hey, are you ok?” Harry picked up his hand, and this made no sense at all. 

“I thought you were coming back here to kick me out,” Draco blurted out, because why not tell the truth when nothing at all made sense anymore? 

“What?” 

“Weasley said you had a boyfriend, that one time at dinner. I thought he was going to move in and you wanted to kick me out so I wouldn’t be in the way.” 

Instead of reacting in any way that was at all logical, Harry dropped Draco’s hand and put his hands over his eyes. “Oh, Merlin.” 

“I didn’t realize my sentence was up already. I guess you just decided to wait for that, then? I appreciate it, I really do. I know I’d be in Azkaban if you weren’t willing to-” Draco was babbling, but the words just kept coming out and he couldn’t stop them. 

“What? No, you’ve got it completely wrong,” Harry said, not looking up. “Damn Ron. I told him not to say the b-word around you yet!” 

“What.” 

Harry took a deep breath. “Look. Part of that was right, yeah, I offered because they needed a live-in auror for your house arrest and nobody volunteered and it was going to be Azkaban if I hadn’t. So I did. I didn’t think...I didn’t know what this was to you. If you wanted to call it boyfriends or not. Or maybe later but not yet. So I told Ron not to use that word until we’d talked about it, and like an enormous git he couldn’t resisst sssaying it!” 

“You’re hissing,” Draco pointed out, because that was the easiest thing to deal with out of all of the nonsensical things Harry had said. 

“Ss-sorry. It happens sometimes when I get mad.” 

“I haven’t heard it before.” 

“I don’t get mad at you.” 

“Why don’t you?” Draco regretted asking that the instant the words were out. 

Harry peered at him curiously from between his fingers. “You’re--you’re like me. You did things you regret and you don’t talk about it but I can tell you regret them. Also, you seem to like me and like me fucking you. This is weird, but it’s worked so far. I was hoping it might keep working. But I wanted to wait to talk to you about that until after you got your wand un-restricted.”

“I don’t.” Things he didn’t want to say were pouring out of Draco today, and he didn’t understand why or how to stop them. “I don’t like fucking.”

Harry’s hands fell slowly away from his face. 

“No, you do, you—” Harry seemed to be searching his memories of all the times they’d fucked, looking for something. “Don’t you?” His voice was quieter, and Draco knew that whatever Harry had been looking for, he had not found.

“I--once. That first time, when you— with my arm. I don’t know why that was--but that one. Yes.”

“You didn’t say anything.” 

“Why would I?” 

“Because that’s how relationships work? Because we don’t do this unless we both want it, because it’s—” Harry was yelling, and Draco was suddenly angry. 

“That’s stupid! You’re stupid! You met death eaters, you’ve got to know what they did when they lived at my house! Don’t be stupid, Potter, you know! You have to know! You know they—” Somewhere in there Draco had started yelling too, blood rushing in his ears, and he was halfway to telling Harry all the things he couldn’t talk about, when Harry interrupted. 

“I didn’t know. Don’t know. I can sort of guess, now?” Something was wrong with Harry’s voice. 

“I’m going upstairs.” It felt important to announce this. 

  
  
  


He had just burrowed under the blankets when he heard familiar footsteps. The bed creaked a little, and Harry sat down at the end of it, by Draco’s feet. 

“Everything is stupid,” Draco grumbled. 

“I definitely am,” Harry agreed, sounding far too cheerful, and Draco peeked out above the corner of the blankets. 

“I didn’t think that you might feel like you had to do this,” Harry continued. “But of course you felt that way, and of course you don’t. Have to do this, I mean. Or anything, with me.”

“You want to.” 

“That isn’t the only thing that matters, though.” 

“Fuck it, get in here with me,” Draco said. “I’m cold and you’re always warm. I like that about you.” 

“Um. I don’t understand why you still want me to touch you at all,” Harry said, but he got under the blankets next to Draco, who immediately snuggled against his side. “I mean, I pretty much—” 

“Yeah, you kind of did. A lot of people did, that year, and now they’re all dead and I’m not. So I win. You also did some things that I really liked once. You’re the only one who did that. It balances out,” Draco said.

“That’s not the way it’s supposed to work. That’s not the way anything works,” Harry protested. 

“I thought your whole thing was that I’m supposed to be able to decide,” Draco argued. 

“Well--yes.” 

“Then this is me deciding. It balances out. Now take your pants off.” 

“What?” 

“No, you’re right. Let’s get the restrictions off my wand first. Then I can cast that spell I’m not allowed to say the name of right now and get that _ thing _ off my arm, and then I’m going to suck you off. Because I want to,” he added, seeing Harry start to protest. “Because I want to and I’ll be a free man and I can.” 

“You’re--you’re serious,” Harry said, disbelieving. “You’re serious and you’re um. Kind of hard, actually.” 

“Kind of,” Draco admitted. 

“I’d rather--I’d rather wait,” Harry said. “Let’s go get your wand un-cursed. Then I can know it’s really you, that you really want it.” 

“What a fucking Gryffindor thing to say.” Draco rolled his eyes. “But fine, let’s go get my wand done. Then I can curse this fucking thing off my arm.” 

“OKay, that wasn’t exactly where I was hoping that would go, but...yeah. Sure. I won’t stop you from doing it. I’d want to do it too, if it were me.” 

  
  


It all felt more bureaucratic than anything else; the ministry wizard barely looked at Draco as he recited the spell that unlocked his wand so that it wouldn’t snap itself if he tried to apparate or cast any dark spells. 

Harry looked a little wary, or maybe Draco just couldn’t wipe the grin off his face when he received his wand, restored to its former glory. 

He hurried to the apparition point, grabbed Harry’s arm and side-alonged him without a word. 

  
  


They came out exactly where he wanted, in one of the deepest parts of the forest on the Malfoy estate. The hedgerow leading from the forest to the manor was far out of sight, Draco knew, and there wasn’t even a deer path to the point where they stood. 

They were perfectly alone; it was the perfect place to cast extremely illegal spells. Draco wasn’t sure why, but it felt important to do this here. He wanted to be in this grove when he remade himself into what he wanted to be, not what someone else wanted him to be.

“_ Sectumsempra,” _ Draco whispered, letting all the hours and months and days he had spent wishing he could cast this spell through in his voice. The curse split the skin of his arm; he could feel the fire as it gouged into him. 

And then he was free, finally, truly free, of both the ministry’s restrictions and the cursed mark on his left arm. Draco couldn’t help it, he laughed and threw his arms around Harry’s neck. Blood dribbled down Harry’s back, his arm burned and ached, and Draco didn’t care. This was the best day of his life. 

“Side-along again, but I’ll lead this time? We can go back to Grimmauld Place.” Harry offered his arm. “Only you’re looking a little unsteady on your feet. Possibly from the blood loss.” 

“Or happiness.” 

“Sure. Or that,” Harry said, looking askance at Draco and muttering something that sounded suspiciously like “fucking Slytherins.” 

  
  


“Come on. Upstairs,” Draco urged, pulling on Harry’s hand when they appeared on the front step of Grimmauld Place. He wobbled a bit on his feet, but Draco didn’t care. Even if he passed out, this was still the best day. 

“Whoa, you’re bleeding a lot,” Harry said. “I don’t...can I cast a healing spell on that?” 

“No. It has to heal the muggle way to work,” Draco said, stepping away from Harry as if to hide his bloody arm. “I’m not risking it coming back if it’s healed with magic.” 

“Ok, but can we at least wrap it with something? Muggles do that, they put creams and things on wounds like that. If they don’t sew them.” 

Draco shuddered. “We’re not sewing it, that’s horrible. I spent a year getting raped by death eaters and not even they would do something like that.” 

“I don’t know what to do when you just come out and say things like that,” Harry admitted as he stumbled after Draco. “What are you looking for?”

“I just want to be able to say it. I’m not looking for anything,” Draco replied. “It’s just...it’s a relief to be able to say it out loud. It was a bad year and it was real and it happened and that’s all I want to say about it, but I want to be able to say it sometimes.” 

“It was an awful year,” Harry agreed, following Draco onto the bed. “Wait, let me do your arm first, okay?” 

“Fine.” 

Draco stuck the bleeding arm out, struggling to stand still when Harry smeared some unfamiliar, waxy kind of muggle potion onto it. Wrapping it made the cut throb. 

“I wasn’t just, I don’t know, saying that stuff to get you to take me to the ministry,” Draco said suddenly. “If you were thinking that. I really did want you. Do want you.”

“I wondered about that.” 

“Let me show you,” Draco said, and pulled Harry down onto the bed. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think?


End file.
